


What To Do When Evading Ferals

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cum Play, F/M, Fuck to Survive, Hand Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: John felt sorry for her, truly, he did.





	

The licks of radiation eased down his spine like wet heat - like a lover’s tongue on a frenzied night. Drunken kisses of gamma combed down in his gut, twisting and kneading and pulling. Poor Nora, he smirked bitterly as she lay still underneath him. What a fucking predicament to end ‘em all, really. Least she was taking it all in stride. Couldn’t fault her for not looking at him, though. If he'd been faced with his ugly mug for an unforeseeable amount of time he'd probably have found something else to visually detail as well. 

The thick, lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks fluttered as her voice leaked out on a whisper, “Doesn’t it hurt? I mean...I would think it would be painful to some degree,” she muttered, trailing off low with a soft sigh. Those brown eyes of hers opened, lips frowning while looking past him at the red sky above. 

He tried to laugh, but that just brought their shared predicament to light all the more, “It ain’t my proudest moment - but I’ve had worse pains,” he replied, smirking, more for himself than for her. Anything to take his addled mind off the ache between his legs - his thick length, pulsing, anguishing and tortuous right up against her. Bullseye…jackpot...and hell, give them until nightfall and he’d have a new pain to deal with once he peeled himself off of her.

Nothing in life was uncomfortable and unique as ball pain…

Minutes ticked by, pulses between his ears - pulses in his cock and those minutes steadily turned into hours. Longer still until the night came in it’s fullest - the moon big an’ bright. A lamp post just behind her cast her face in soft yellow, exposing the small gash on her chin, red and bruised.

When she spoke - hours after the last time - he jerked, pleasure swimming at the unintended contact.

“Thank you, by the way. I much prefer this over the alternative.”

John thought maybe she smiled, but the lighting was all off, casting hard shadows and bathing her angled features in something akin to the sunshine. Normally he would have shrugged, but his elbows were already aching to keep himself at least a reasonable distance from crushing her to death. He may have still been a wispy thing, but his ghoulishness made him twice as heavy as he looked...only sometimes did that little science aspect come in handy. This, he was sad to say, wasn’t one of them.

Her stomach quivered under him, followed by a breathy little laugh. Hancock bit his tongue as she inadvertently jerked up into him. Wasn’t even all that much pressure and he still had to stifle a groan. Already his tongue was bitten raw with how many times he had to shut himself up.

She shifted again, chuckling and he tasted blood.

One more fucking minute of this and he felt like his gut was gonna burst. The flames still crackling off the blown car didn’t help. The radiation didn’t help. The fucking ferals still shambling didn’t damn well help.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing…”

“All good, sister,” he choked out, “Just gonna enjoy the view while I got it. ‘Specially since you don’t seem too bothered by Little Han’cock poking ya.” 

He plastered on a grin, wagging his brows for the full effect - screaming on the inside while his dick pulsed as if it could escape from his damn pants. Nora and radiation made a killer combination, indeed.

“Doesn’t feel so little to me,” her lips quirked, almost smiling before she breathed out, turning her head to the side, forehead sliding against the arm he had braced at the side of her head. She might have been doling out compliments but she was sure quick to change the subject, “Are you sure ferals even sleep? I feel like we’ve been here for hours.”

“Oh yeah,” he grunted, just as she shifted her thigh. Fuck, “They sleep alright, but - but ah’ what are ya doing down there?”

Nora paled, finally looking at him, light showcasing the delicate sheen of sweat on her forehead, “My leg’s asleep.”

Of course. Damn her and her restless energy. Should have given her a dose of Med-x to calm that agitation she was so friendly with, down. Couldn’t have been a languid individual like himself - had to be a bright spit of sunshine no matter the situation, even on her back with a damn ghoul on top of her - a ghoul with a pretty stiff problem.

He could feel the subtle vibration of one of her boots tapping at the air. The gentle bob traveled up her leg, to her knee, brushing the fabric of his pants. It was like flicking the domino and watching all the others topple over. It was a line that would have made him sweat if he could do that anymore, instead, it filled his mouth with saliva, forcing him to swallow audibly as the diluted motion traveled between his legs. He was fucked. She could have just been breathing and it’d have jostle his poor cock. 

It wasn’t her fault, he reminded himself, ignoring the growing ache in his elbows. 

“Hancock…” she whispered, moving so suddenly under him one of his elbows slid, fabric cutting on the pavement before he could keep himself up. The pressure he met when his hips fell down over her stomach was as memorable for its pain as it was for its intense pleasure.

Her hips wiggled, dragging and pressing and he dropped his face down over the crook of her neck, breathing in a ragged gasp, loud enough he barely heard her whimpering fearfully, “John...it’s-”

A ruined noise made them both freeze. The bliss in his gut drained. He didn’t need to look to know what had caused her to curl up underneath him, her thighs now cradling his hips, fingers tugging at the lapels of his coat. A feral; close and curious had stumbled far too close. Hancock shifted over her, pressing further against her, hiding her. If only she smelt more like him - if only she’d gone ghoul when she’d fallen in that puddle instead of laying in bed the week after, all sick and weak. But…damn, he turned his head to the side, the soft expanse of her neck warming his chin and mouth. She sure was soft…

“What are we gonna do? Fuck-....they’re everywhere for fuck’s sake.”

Yeah, they were. He could hear them all shuffling closer, sniffing and hissing and clawing along the ground, hopping up on the hunk of the burning car and howling at the smell they were trying to pinpoint. There were just too many of the empty husks for them to take on and running was only good when you knew where the hell you were going. In the dark, this place might as well have been buried underground. Only the one lamp buzzed on above theM - the rest of the light came from the car flames and what little the foggy moon gave ‘em. 

“Hancock...what are you- are you drooling?”

No? But, something warm was running down his mouth. With a flick of his tongue, he tasted a burst of copper. Blood. His nose was bleeding…figures, he mused.

“Nosebleed,” he explained. “Happens with the radiation sometimes...I’ll buy you a beer when we…” a thought popped into his head - a plan, if you will, “...hang on, got an idea brewin’.”

She was watching him with wide, black eyes as he propped himself back up, staring at the stain of blood on her neck. Make her smell like a ghoul? Huh, he tilted himself to the side, reached two fingers to his upper lip and pulled away a heavy coating of blood. There were worse things she’d found herself covered in, he figured. Hancock thought it couldn’t be any worse than the shit those bloatflies flung at them. 

Her eyes narrowed in understanding, “...you think it will work?” she whispered. 

“Worth a shot, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

She nodded, short and quick.

“Hurry up then,” she told him, tilting her head backward, exposing the long pale stretch of her neck. Hancock, through no fault of his own, sniffed up some of the blood running out of his nose. Nora and he had gotten close over the months, but there was something about the way she bared her neck that got him in the gut. Radiation, just radiation he reassured himself before running his bloody fingers from under the tender skin of her ear to the hollow of her throat - a dark rash of black-red over her creamy skin. Barbaric, he thought - almost laughed, but the close shuffling and snorting of the ferals kept him swiping at his leaking, bloody nose, coating her neck and collar bones. 

 

He couldn’t find it in him to paint her face in it, instead, John rubbed her clothes red until his bleeding stopped…until the bleeding stopped...but there was another way to get more of it. Always a thousand ways to start leakin’ out the good stuff. And, fuck if he was going to let a little pain get in the way of keeping her from turning into feral shit. 

It wasn’t hard to get blood, he reminded himself.

“Fuck,” she cursed, those dark eyes of hers darting around his body, down the length of his chest and back up. The same idea should have been going through her pretty little head to, he reckoned. It was either this or some slobberin’.

With a shift of his thigh and elbow he dug around at his waistband, shucking his knife out between his belt and pants. He always told her he had her back, no reason to stop now. The low hissing of the ferals, drawn back by the way they moved against each other, only reassured his intention.The light shimmered off his blade, mirroring the abrupt horrified expression on her face, however, gave him pause.

“No,” she hissed quietly, gripping his wrist.

It wasn’t often he found himself confused, what with all the mentats, but her death grip on him, pulling his knife away from his skin was - needless to say - strange. Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that. Give more than you take seemed like a great philosophy to live by.

“We ain’t got a lot of options, sweetheart,” he told her, raspy and soft, figuring slow and careful would help push his point across. It didn’t. Her lips thinned in that way they did when she was ignoring good advice. Stubborn, he grinned. Even the ferals pawing around just a few feet away didn’t keep the amusement from his mouth. She was something else, alright.

“Not many options, no,” she agreed, but while she said that he saw an odd glimmer in her eyes. Her lips quirked, pupils expanding just before flashing down between them…

Not that...“You can’t be thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, doll.” John realized he sounded more horrified than perhaps he should have. Give him another place - another situation with this offer and he’d have been higher than the milky way, but this? Now? 

A feral not but five feet away hissed, gurgled and John felt himself get a little colder, dip himself down around her a little lower.

Nora’s mouth turned wry, “Jesus, John. Unless you'd rather hack yourself up, be my guest,” she whispered, glaring, “but, let's be frank. I'm no fool, Hancock. The situation's not ideal, but...I wouldn't mind even without death right around the corner...so,” her eyes shifted around the darkness, at the hungry ferals trying to sniff her out, “why don't you let me do this my way? If you can manage with an audience, of course.”

“I- uh…” at a loss for words, for once in his life it seemed, John watched as the determined expression etched into her face went soft, eyes opening carefully. Her shoulders shifted and he’d been too focused on the honest look in her big browns to focus on where her hands were going. The gentle tugs on his pants not registering until he could feel a leak of cold air where his flag had been knotted.

“Shit,” he gushed, “- I mean...if you don’t mind.” Nora just smiled up at him as his elbows started to shake. 

If she didn’t mind? He’d have punched himself square in the damn face if he could move, let alone spare a fist, but they were currently bunched up by the side of her head...plus...her fingers were, yeah - right fucking there…

Hancock sighed, felt the muscles in his neck give up, sinking his face into the crook of her neck. If she wasn’t upset by handling his bare, rad-burnt cock then hopefully she didn’t mind his face scrunched against her pulse. He could only imagine how he looked in the best of lightning when he was cummin’, but with this lighting? Hell, he probably looked like a boogeyman from her childhood. But, shit...she was warm, soft and she smelt like blood and blossoms. Normally John didn’t care much for the rank smell of carnage, but somethin’ about the dried blood on her neck was gettin’ to him, or maybe that was just her hand on his dick.

Her hands...fuckin’ hell. He'd been lucky enough to have a couple tumbles with some smoothies in his twenty years as a ghoul, but those women had nothing on the silky warmth that was currently twisting and pulling in equal fantastic measure on his cock. Might be he'd ‘accidently’ shoot some buckshot into a nuclear engine again if this was what it got him. Take away the ghouls and the distant fact that she was doing this mainly to save her own ass, and this was one of his favorite filth laden fantasies come true. A new favorite for the memory lounger if he ever decided the chems couldn’t hack it one day.

Nora did something with her wrist; twisting the smooth warmth of her palm along the underside of his cock while her fingers glided a line from the tops of his balls to the flare of his cockhead. A few more times of that and he’d go out on top of her if he wasn’t careful.

John gave a low whistle, groaning appreciatively, “This ain't how I pictured winnin’ you over ya know.”

He could feel Nora vibrate with quiet laughter where he had his mouth and destroyed nose stuffed along her throat. Yeah, not ideal, but she wouldn't find him complaining about the turn of events. Her palm was curling and draggin’ with knowing pressure, a swipe of soft skin over the head of his cock and just like that the dry warmth turned slick and hot. Damn, but she knew her way around a beastly cock like his. No doubt about that…

“Let me know if you have any…” she paused, and John could feel her throat work as she swallowed along his temple, “constructive critiques.”

John chuckled breathlessly. Did she want the honest truth? ‘Cause her hand felt better than most of the snatches he'd fucked. The rational part of him would have topped most of the bliss up to the radiation hanging in the air, but that'd be takin’ away credit where credit was most certainly do. 

Hancock couldn't help himself, his tongue snuck out, tasting her sweat and his blood before leaking a heavy groan, “Sweetheart, fuck- even if this wasn't a cum quickly scenario I don't think I could hold it in much longer.”

Her hips twisted underneath him, warming the empty space between his groin and her twisting fist. The wet spread of her fingers danced up along his length, running to the head before cupping it in the divot of her palm. John growled; a mimicry of the ferals rooting around the two of them as she squeezed...and just like that he shot off with a ragged breath. His hips gave a hurried buck down into her, slipping his cock inside the tight fist of her fingers. Nora shifted underneath him, a cold knuckle grazing his stomach, eliciting a hiss as he curled his hips into a final, languid leak of cum.

“God damn…” he wheezed.

The side effects of his orgasm kept him blissfully ignorant as he watched Nora through hazy eyes. Her lips were thin, expression pinched as her palms spread out along her open collar, leaving a glistening trail along her skin; blinding under the lamp light. Shit, he almost forgot what the reason was for his fucked brain. 

“Don’t,” John swallowed, feeling light-headed as Nora smeared his cum over her, letting it darken her dirty shirt where her breasts swelled underneath, “ugh-don’t take this the wrong way, Sister, but this is keepin’ my dick hard.” Stiff peaks formed under the dampened fabric over her breasts. Her nipples were hard...

“Good,” she whispered, looking to the left as a feral shuffled across the pavement, head twisted back; sniffing the air. Nothin’ like the musky smell of a fresh load, John figured with a weird giddiness. At least they weren’t drooling anymore. Her crazed idea was already working it seemed. He felt like a prized Brahmin as his dick pulsed against her jean-clad crotch.

“That’s good,” Nora repeated, palm dragging down her stomach. She reached down between them again and promptly grasped his half stiff cock, pulling it with a delicate twist and a rueful smile, “I'm gonna need a bit more.”

Shit.

A bit more, indeed, John thought while breathing through a second orgasm and then a pathetic third that left his head more jumbled that a night of ‘tats and booze. Something in his balls felt torn, like a pulled muscle, and how he hadn't fallen on Nora at this point he wasn't too sure. Through sheer force of will, he figured, chuckling into her sweaty neck. She stank of him. Even he could smell it past the ionized reek of radiation and her gentle scent. 

“Think-” John swallowed, “thinkin’ that's all you're...gonna...get...out of me.” He felt like he’d just run a dozen miles in a heatwave. Against his forehead, he could feel Nora grumble in the back of her throat. He tried to laugh but it came out a choking gasp, “I'm good, but even I've got my limits.”

Underneath his frock her cum-coated palms rubbed into her jeans, forearms brushing his soft cock with raw slices of pleasure. It almost hurt it felt so good; real fuckin’ sharp.

Say what you will about handjobs, John thought ruefully, but Nora dished them out on par with a blowjob. He felt good and fucked after the three she got out of him. If he had it in him he'd have gone for another…but despite the ghoulish benefit of longevity he couldn't muster the thought of another go. If she spread her thighs for him could that have gotten the beast blood-thirsty again? Hell, he wasn't certain...he felt right useless.

“John,” she whispered against his temple; sincere and soft. But something in her tone sounded off. He lifted his face out of her warmth and arched a brow at her pink cheeks and moist parted mouth. Damn, maybe he could get it up again if she kept lookin’ at him like that - like she wanted to ruck her jeans down and fuck him right here and now. Naw, that couldn’t be it. But there was somethin’ there he couldn’t name.

“I want to say thank you,” she told him, eyes stabbing into his own.

Thanking him? He nearly laughed but that would be testing fate a little too much. The ghouls weren't sniffing any closer thanks to her brilliant idea, but no good could come from drawing their attentions even without her tasty aroma fogging up the air. 

“Anytime, Sister,” John managed despite how the way she looked at him was making him feel much less a fifty-year-old ghoul and more a love struck teenager. “Anytime,” he muttered again when her stare turned away in something like awkwardness. He meant it too. Anytime. Anywhere. If he could get it up three times amidst a horde of stinking ghouls he could get it up most anywhere he figured. 

“So,” she whistled quietly, plucking a loose strand of thread from his shoulder patch, “you think you're ready to make a run for it? I say we head through the old bus depot. Hangman’s Alley isn't too far off from there...” she paused before sighing quietly, “I think at least.”

John blinked away the fog, arched his back until it cracked pleasantly and looked down at her flustered face. A part of him wanted to forget the ferals and the state of her clothes and sticky skin - part of him wanted to ask her what was really ticking on in that skull of hers, but instead he nodded to her gun out in the darkness, “You wanna leave your rifle here? We can make a circle back for it after stockin’ up at camp. I don’t mind watchin’ your back.”

“If I have to make a new one so be it,” she said that like she couldn’t care less but her lips went thin at the thought, “if it's me or the gun, well...the world's got plenty of duct tape. Plus, we both need to get some rest after tonight...my wrists sore.”

“Woman after my own heart,” John mused, giving her a grin that was a bit looser than normal. 

He'd have to find a way to get the just-cummed-like-a-champ look off his face before he showed himself in her little town. Wouldn't want rumors flying around about her. A man's face, even ruined though his was, could be more telling than words. Keepin’ up appearances...

Together they stuffed his well-used cock back behind a frail zipper, knotting his flag snug before carefully getting to his knees. Nora smiled unconvincingly before taking his hand, her eyes darting back and forth from him to the ferals. The shambling ghouls couldn't have cared less about the two of them. Some were even crouched as though sleeping, others were soaking up the radiation from the flames and gnawing on garbage. Nora, through it all, looked stunning as she pulled him through the darkness. The pale yellow of her pipboy exposed a few feet before them after they were clear of the crackling vehicle. 

In lieu of conversation, he pulled out a bent cigarette, lit it with a flick of his wrist and followed close at her side. She reeked of jizz. John could smell it clearly through the cloud of nicotine. Hopefully, none of the settlers noticed what that unique smell was. Could be that he only knew the telltale stink because he watched her three separate times running the thick fluid all over her. The best was the second time when she made a quiet noise of...something...after brushing against her own puckered nipple, leaving a dark patch on her gray shirt.

If he squinted, John swore he could still see the patch on her left breast. That image would keep him up for a good few weeks...this whole evening was ripe for future recollection when he finally got himself some alone time.

Nora ignored him. And why wouldn’t she? He felt sorry for her, but the three orgasms were fuckin’ with his empathy meter. In the morning he knew he’d feel embarrassed by what just happened. Or maybe he wouldn’t, which would only raise more worries for him.

His knees felt like two swollen knobs, along with the balls of his elbows, but the sore throb was second to the light airy sensation in his gut. That smoothie afterglow followed him well past the corner to Hangman’s Alley. A bright swath of white light hit the familiar brick wall and by the time they got in sight of the guard standing watch, John had schooled his face carefully. He couldn’t help the confident sway of his hips, though, that was all in the attentions he’d received earlier. No helpin’ that, he mused, watching Nora for any signs. What signs exactly, he wasn’t certain.

“Evening Desmond,” Nora caterwauled at the guard - an oily man who tipped his ratty cowboy hat down at the two of them. The settlers bloodshot eyes - too much buffout - studied John for only a moment before turning his eyes back down the alleyway. 

John harried a look over at Nora when the gates shut behind them. She carried herself in a telling show of sore exhausted - the exact opposite of how his own body language spoke. Over the course of their thirty plus minute journey back she hadn’t once looked over at him, but her cheeks were still tinged with red even now and he noted how her eyes shifted as if wanted to look over at him.

Shame, John thought as they passed underneath the stacked living quarters. He could still feel how his cock ached sweetly between his legs. A part of him - fueled by that feel-good, nothing-to-lose brain chem - wanted to follow her to her private room in the back of the camp and offer her the same bit of what she gave him. He could imagine himself with his hand stuffed inside the front of her jeans, stroking the smooth wet flesh of her cunt as she writhed in his lap; arms hung around his neck and her flushed red face stuffed along his shoulder.

If he closed his eyes he could almost hear her moaning.

Just the mental image made his cock tickle...but that was the most it did.

She really had brained him tonight. Had to get her back later. If she’d have him, he could only hope. Instead of planning his next move, John watched Nora as she explained the barebones hang up to Old Man Benson, eventually John let his gaze follow her over to her little shack tucked away in the corner alley, wondering what she’d do if he showed up later, licking his lips and telling her he wanted a taste of her. 

There, at her door, she paused. John traced the edge of his knife in both his hands, watching her past the fire in the center of town. Hesitantly, she turned back, found him by the fire and something in her eyes told him everything he was chewin’ on all evening. Ever since she’d pushed his knife away when he thought blood was their only option, he’d been asking himself that big question - one ghouls usually didn’t bother having about smoothies as pristine as her.

Right then her eyes lowered, watching him and very slowly he watched her lick her lips and smile. A genuine, sultry smile that answered everything. 

He should have followed her into her room; should have ignored all the settlers in the square that would surely have seen him and her shut themselves behind a locked door. Another should’ave. The thought wouldn’t leave his mind, even after she waved him goodnight and he lifted her hand to do the same. 

After the fire died down and he was laying up in one of the bunks by the generator, John licked his teeth once everyone else was asleep. He wondered if the salty tang he tasted was the leftovers he’d licked off her neck that evening and if he’d get a chance to feel her on his tongue again. Always tomorrow, he told himself, grinning in the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I had this idea stuck in my head for awhile and finally got around to finishing it. Leave a comment and kudo if you have the time!
> 
> Tumblr ----> http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/


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